A Perfect Beginning
by The Ingenious Dragon
Summary: My name is Haruno Sakura, and I am not your average girl. You don't want to get to know me. Trust me, I wouldn't either. But if you think you can handle it, go ahead. Just don't blame me for the nightmares.
1. Chapter 1

I was born in Chicago, IL to a woman whose name means nothing to me. She was a dancer, and a highly skilled one. My father was a king. He first saw her due to tragedy. The building she was to perform in that night was set on fire. At the same time, though whether it was before or after the fire is unknown, it started to rain. He saw her dancing in the street, then. She was scantily clothed, covered in ash and drenched to the bone. I assume she was beautiful, captivating. Certainly, she was mad.

Suffice to say that he hounded her until she agreed to marry him. The king had finally found his queen, and for her he would do anything. Now, my father had sired a son by another woman many years before. He would've been in his twenty's at the time of my birth. About a year after they married, my father found his beloved queen in bed with my elder brother. Since he loved her, he could not bring himself to kill her, so he banished her from his kingdom (divorce). She kidnapped me and we moved from apartment to apartment all over the city, while my father tried his hardest to find me.

Over the course of my stay with her, she taught me many things, How to dream; to live. She told the most incredible stories, fairy tales, many of which I can still repeat today. But at the same time, she had men over and would "work". Without getting into too much detail: I was raped by a man that she later married, a man with a winding snake tattooed green on his head. He forced me to bed her, as well as many others. Eventually, my father found me and we are here in the present.

Much of my childhood was spent around stilettos, fishnets, and furs. Simply put, my mother was a whore. I find myself, thanks to her actions, afraid of any and all men (unless they are gay), and yes, that includes my own father. I feel much more comfortable around my own species, but yet at the same time, if I come across a male that captures my attention I find myself starting to utilize the "skills" she taught me long ago. I was told by many that I am "seductive". I do not mean to be, but it is all I know... The moment I see that I am getting too close to any one person, I will cut off all contact, despite how much it hurts. I can't risk becoming like her, but I am, every day. It is inevitable, I suppose.

I remember everything about my time with her, but at the same, I have forgotten more than I could have ever hoped to. I remember the meaningless information mainly; the shine of her red hair under the dirty light bulb. The nakedness of her body, the purple bruises on her arms and the multitudes of thin red scores where the blue of her veins should be. I remember the cracked plaster walls of the apartment that we stayed in the longest, the dank musty smell that clung to them day and night. I remember the men, fat slobs and chiseled gods, all.

I remember the women with their stringy hair, dead eyes and perky breasts, bruised. And I remember the rats. Oh gods, the rats with their angry, beady little eyes; and then there were HER eyes. Sure, I remember that they were some shade of green or other, but I do not remember any expressions. Her eyes held no love, no sorrow, and no pain. They were dead eyes. They were these big dead green eyes. (Looks straight at you, unseeing) I loved her eyes. They did not hurt me like the rest of her did; probably because she could never stand to look at me.

She wasn't a bad mother, just not fit to be one... I love her, but mainly I resent her because she loved sex more than me. I am now "gay" thanks to what she and that snake did to me. Not only did she watch as he 'raped me' she participated. Was she drugged or sober? I'll never know, but I do know that I am acting more and more like her every day. That is why my dad abuses me; because I am too much like her. (Frowns)

Is this too confusing? Everything I write is confusing. Lol


	2. Chapter 2

This is the part of the story where I knew 100% what happened, I refuse to give you any true detail of the happenings, but you must trust in me when I say that they were beautiful in their cruelty. Their cries lit up the skies, drowned out all other sound. –Smiles bitterly- The rest, the true beginning, is what I remember Étoile telling me…

(Note that this took place a few months before Étoile died. Röen and I no longer lived under the same roof. Étoile was taken from me by a jealous person, one who believed she did wrong by saving that bitch and killing her own "Master".)

It goes a little something like this…

Her lips lift up in a sneer. "What do you remember of Röen?" she asks a seven year old me.

"I remember that she was a prostitute who took home many different men back to your house or something like that, and the men that you witnessed weren't very good people, they were aggressive and abusive, not in any way kind. You had some good memories with her though. I dont know much more about her."

Her eyes snap with cold rage. "Röen was no prostitute." She whispers harshly. Then, her voice softens, becoming whimsical if nothing else. "I have yet to tell you of Cancerel and..." Her smile slips. "And of... Søren, am I right?"

"You haven't told me of those two yet, Star." I whispered, trying to calm her.

Étoile was what would now be considered my caretaker. She was a fine French borne African woman. Very tall when compared to Röen's five foot frame. Étoile was a very slender but shapely ebony skinned woman who always seemed to wear very loose garments in shades of tan and brown. Her hair was braided in singles and tied off with gold bells. Her pounds of hair were usually held back by some scarf or other. She was beautiful, kind. She answered to Søren.

Cancerel and Soren were polar opposites with the same interests. Cancerel was a pale demon of a man. Vicious to all around him, but he was kind to one: Röen. Cancerel was beautiful with his cold grey eyes and long ashen hair. But Søren, he was about as dark as Cancerel pale. He had the most beautiful ebony skin, an angular face, long braided hair not unlike Étoile's. Soren was tall, much more so than even Étoile, but just barely passing Cancerel's head. Soren was a unique man; he had gold piercings down the length of his nose and ears, as well as a gold stud piercing above his lip. I believe they call it the 'Medusa' now-a-days. They were true gods, the two of them.

She cocks her head, seemingly thinking. "Hmm... Where to start... Where to start..?" She wonders aloud. "You are aware, I believe, That Röen was a dancer, yes?"

"No, I do not remember that."

She raises her eyebrow, incredulous. "Why!" She scoffs, "That was the most important part of the story! Her "career" as a dancer is how all this came to be. It was the trigger, if you so wish to label it."

"I do not remember everything, Star." I whisper sadly.

"This does not seem to be going too well, hmm." She sighs once more. "Röen was a dancer in both "The Sable Virgin" and "El Gato Negro". She was exotic with her blood red hair and wild green eyes, her pale skin and soft, slender hands. She was perfect, they said. Such a fair, sweet child. She was running when they found her. She had stolen a man's coat and was running. She had tripped, then on the hem, and was sent sprawling. She hit her head they say. When she came to, whether hours or minutes later, it is unknown, but a hand was extended to her. A hand encased in a black leather glove. The hand she found belonged to the most beautiful man in existence..."


End file.
